


Surrender

by sylvain



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain
Summary: Submissive/bottom RaphaelDom!Male Reader
Relationships: Raphael (TMNT)/Reader, Raphael (TMNT)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Another quick one-shot cause I couldn't sleep.

Raphael waits for you in the center of the room. On his knees. Eyes closed, breathing slow, as if in meditation. But his mind isn't turned inward. He's taking in every second, every sound, every scent.

From the moment you entered the bedroom to find him like this, he's been mindful. Not to move. Not to breathe too loudly. He wants nothing to distract him from the snap of the cap. The smell of lubricant as it pours into your palm. The clink of your belt buckle. The zip of your fly. He shivers and hums with anticipation. The slick sounds as you spread lube over your fingers, over your cock, have his stomach in knots before you've even said a word.

Raphael can't help but lick his lips when he hears the creak of the floorboards under your feet. His breath quickens when you drag your thumb over his bottom lip. He gasps as you press two fingers into his mouth and command him to suck.

"Show me." You demand of him. And he obliges. Of course, he obeys. 

He's a fighter and a hothead and a brute and all those things that everyone else sees... but at the end of patrol, when he needs to calm his thoughts and find peace, he looks to you for control. It's in you that he places his trust. To you, he surrenders. 

Your fingers in his mouth are but a tease, yet he takes them greedily. He sucks on them in earnest, like he's trying to prove his tongue is worthy of your dick.

And it is, you assure him with a firm, "Good boy," and when you remove your fingers, Raphael whimpers at the loss.

You don't hesitate bringing your dick to his lips. The way his tongue curled and laved between and around your fingers had your dick at attention within seconds. Now, standing at a 110° angle, your dick glistens with a bead of precome at its tip. The liquid threatens to fall upon Raphel's lips. But you rock your hips forward, pull Raphael in by the tails of his mask, and without being told, Raphael takes all of you in one thrust. 

You hold him there, enjoying the heat of his breath against your pelvis, the roll of his tongue over the underside of your dick, the muscles of his throat clenching your shaft, until his eyes are watering with the need to breathe. You pull back, just long enough to allow him that much, then thrust again.

You sigh and he moans and you fuck his mouth. With his eyes on you, the tails of his mask wrapped around your fists, and his own hands dutifully held behind his back, Raphael keens. And you take your pleasure from him with selfish greed. You use him and he feels useful -- and worthy, and wanted, and owned. Heat curls low in his belly and his body yearns for more of you.

Mouth stuffed, he hums around your cock. He's begging. You can tell by the way his dick hangs heavily between his thighs. The way he's creating a mess of precome on the hardwood.

You push him off of you with a wet pop and a smile. He sits back on his ankles and writhes against the plug in his ass. He pants, slack-jawed, with desire.

You give your order, "On the bed," and the hoarseness of your voice surprises even Raphael. His pupils dilate as he stares up at you. But soon he's rising to his feet, a fluid motion despite his bulk or perhaps because of his athletic build. 

He takes his position. On his back. Knees spread. He's already reaching to remove the plug before your own knees hit the mattress.

And that's, "Good. So fucking good for me, babe." 

His eyes shutter as you run your nails up his calves then around to the insides of his thighs. He gives a hiss of pleasure when your teeth graze his skin and he can't help but give into an involuntary buck of his hips when you mouth at his balls. 

Your tongue finds his ass before you gift him with the pleasure of your cock because you want him to ache with the feeling of being empty. You want him to beg to be filled.

The thrust of your tongue isn't enough, but in ways it's too much. Raphael rocks on his shell and groans through the sensations. His thighs tremble and his cock weeps onto his plastron.

You don't stop until you make the decision that he's had enough. And when you look up at his face, he's flushed and sweating and his lip is bleeding from where he's had his teeth clamped down too hard.

"Please," he begs, breathless. 

You line yourself up and plunge into him to the hilt without any further pretense. He throws his head back and cries out, and you find yourself practically shouting his name at the first thrust. He's tighter than usual. Hotter. You don't know what plug he used, but it's gotta be new. You hitch one of his thighs over your shoulder and thrust into him again. You're both making a lot of noise. The neighbors certainly know both of your names. But you don't care. You don't think you could remedy the situation if you did care.

You pound into him and Raphael takes it with moans and gasps. His dick is red and straining and leaking between your bodies. But he doesn't touch himself. Not without permission. And you won't give it. Not tonight. Not when you're both so close and you know Raphael can come without it.

You're pounding into him when he gasps your name and then you're crying out as the rush begins. You come in waves as your fingernails dig into his hips and your thoughts white out.

You're still thrusting when Raphael tenses around you. When he fucks himself down hard on your cock and paints you both with his release.

You're still fully seated in him when you tug on the ends of his mask and make sure his attention is on you. But, of course it is. His eyes, his thoughts, his focus has never left. 

"What do good boys say?" you ask of him.

Raphael stares up at you. He sucks in a heavy breath and his moment of silence speaks more than any words. 

You keep your gaze locked on his. This thing between you. The feelings that trap your hearts in a vice and tether your souls doesn't need the words Raphael struggles to say. Those aren't the words you're asking to hear.

You inquire again, "What do good boys say?" waiting for a word of thanks.

He blinks at you. Breathes. And gives you one of his sated, lopsided grins. "When can we go again?"


End file.
